Geryon
by Estoma
Summary: Or, seven times someone needed a guardian angel. Cato/Clove, Finnick/Annie, Katniss/Peeta, Cashmere/Gloss, Johanna/Finnick, Haymitch/Maysilee.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: For the Shipping Week at Caesar's Palace. Pairing: Cato/Clove. **

We used to sit by the quarry and look out over Mt Pelion and Mt Geryon. The twin peaks rose from the same root, but Pelion took the brunt of the northerly storms. Its face was weathered and smoothed, but its sister, Geryon, was all sharp and pristine crags. Once, you left me and I watched you out of sight. When you came back you offered me two stones; one was as smooth as your skin, the other as sharp as my smile. It cut your finger. I wrapped it in my t-shirt, and you wrapped your wings around us.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: For Shipping Week at Caesar's Palace. Day 2: Finnick and Annie. **

I would have hated him if he let them see as I did. When we were young, at least, when I was young, we would hide ourselves away in the sheltered coves at _Summerall's,_ like any other couple. The years never wrote on his face as they did mine. I was a little older when he started to leave me every night. He would come back with the dawn, tired for crossing the miles and his skin was marked by their lips and teeth. I never asked how they saw him, but he promised only I could see his wings.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: For Shipping Week at Caesar's Palace. Day 3: Haymitch/Maysilee.**

Your sister used to dole out a dollar's worth of boiled sweets when the children dropped just one notched coin on the counter, a finger against her lips. Paper bags would rustle in sticky, eager hands and she shrugged her wings from her coat. I only looked once; I knew you'd rather your wings were the only ones I saw. Hers were caramel, yours toffee. When the hard-candy beaks speared down, your wings slipped from your jacket, warm caramel, warm blood. She held a finger to her lips. Was I so dark it took two of you to save me?


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: For Shipping Week at Caesar's Palace, Day 4: Katniss/Peeta**

Once, I thought it was my job to look after her. She let me do it, a sharp smile, a handful of burnt bread. She reached for the crumbs like a beast. She knew I needed to be needed. How long did she starve herself before her cheeks were hollow? Now, she lets me tend to her rosebushes and clear the weeds from the gravestones (never the dandelions). I still remember the shadow of her feathers on the rough stone of the cave. She told me it was just a fever-dream and lets me fill the house with winter blossoms.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: For Caesar's Palace Shipping Week, Day 5: Johanna/Finnick. Warning for coarse language. **

The vodka must have still been searing down your throat when you poured another shot. It sloshed onto your lap. Did the alcohol cleanse, or burn, when it greased your thighs, your cunt? I tasted it as I tasted you. For a chaser, you were pretty bitter. Once, you would have laughed at that, but you took a swig from bottle instead. I asked if you were looking for another kid. _After I fucked up the last one_? You laughed, then. I would have told you it wasn't your fault, but we were not made with lies slicking our skin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: For Shipping Week at Caesar's Palace, Day 6: Cashmere/Gloss. Warning for incest. **

You looked like anyone's idea of an angel, even with your head down between my legs. Nobody could look as debauched as you; if I couldn't feel your wings, I'd have said they were a shadow on the sheets. You'd look up – your lips, chin, slick with me. I liked to touch your feathers while you touched me. Once, I asked you if you were going to choose a child to watch over. I screamed with laughter as your words hummed on my skin. You said you'd made your choice. I stopped laughing. _You didn't choose me. I'm your sister. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: For Shipping Week at Caesar's Palace, Day 7. See if you can guess the characters. **

Up where the wind lashed tears from our eyes, on the trackless crags of Mt Pelion, that was where I liked to go. The Northerlies rushed down the border of 2 and 7; I could see them coming, black and purple, dark at heart. Thunder on the rocks made my blood sing, but it made yours run cold. You always followed me, though. I pushed you away, but when the wind was fierce, I staggered back against your chest. You wondered if it was time you picked a child to watch over. I slapped you, then. _They don't deserve you. _


End file.
